


take a sad song and make it better

by Cat Harvelle (londoneyedgirl)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, hopefully this isnt so bad yayyy, i wrote this with zayn feels and then zarry feels and ugh i cannot deal with zarry feels, this is au maybe?, we'll never know hmmm, zarry - Freeform, zarry stylik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:27:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londoneyedgirl/pseuds/Cat%20Harvelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What a better way of ending a relationship than making the bad boy seem even more like a bad boy? It’s not like the bad boy has feelings anyway.</p>
<p>But Zayn does.</p>
<p>(or the one where Zayn's sad with all the rumors and someone makes a playlist for him and he thinks it's Harry and then it's not,  but it's really Harry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	take a sad song and make it better

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanna say I'm sorry if this sucks too much? English's not my main language and I hope I didn't make several mistakes. Hope you guys enjoy this, it wasn't really brit picked because I'd probably mess that up if I tried, so... Thanks for reading, babes!
> 
> disclaimer: the songs in here are not mine, obvs :)

It hasn’t been the best of days for Zayn. With all those rumors thrown at him, hitting him like arrows from all the possible sides, all he wants is to curl up in a ball and forget he exists. Like, doesn’t everyone notice that he didn’t really cheat?

Even if he really were in a true relationship with Perrie, don’t people think that he’d be smarter than that? It was him in the pic, of course, but it was an old one he’d taken previously on his phone and then management got it. What a better way of ending a relationship than making the bad boy seem even more like a bad boy? It’s not like the bad boy has feelings anyway.

But Zayn does.

He’s been ignoring each and all phone calls he gets. He’s pretty sure all his friends called him, and his mom and the rest of his family and though he should, he can’t bother to bring himself to care. He doesn’t read the texts he gets (it’s nearing thirty by now) and he eats every once in a while to make sure he doesn’t die from just smoking and drinking tea.

It’s the first time in five days that he actually wants to shower (not that he didn’t shower during those five days, but it’s _different_ ), so he finishes his smoke and walks out of his balcony into his –too huge, too big, too empty, too silent- house. He pushes his boxers and sweatpants all the way down together, letting it fall to the floor and kicking it to the side. He makes his way to his room and then to his bathroom, running a hand through his dirty hair messing it even more than it already was. It can’t get any worse, can it?  
He stands in the middle of the bathroom, staring dumbly as he tried to decide whether he should use the shower or take the bathtub. He shrugs and goes to the shower, stepping slowly on the cold bathroom tiles and feeling a shiver run down his spine. He scrubs the back of his head and turns on the shower, instantly smiling in delight as the hot water ran down his face and body.

He tries not to think about how everyone thinks he’s a dickhead and how his twitter mentions are probably full of hate right now, but it’s so hard he kind of gives up and lets his mind wander. It’s just not _fair_.

‘But who said life is fair?’ he thinks bitterly as he finishes washing his hair and turns the shower off. He gets his towel and wraps it around his hips before stepping out of the shower box, shaking his hair wildly. Zayn walks out of the bathroom and opens his wardrobe, looking at it. He tilts head and stares at it as if it was a puzzle to be solved – and it was going to have to wait a bit more for him to fix it up. He grabs the first pair of boxers he finds and a pair of (hopefully) clean sweats.

He goes downstairs and considers just throwing himself on the couch, but then his stomach makes a warning, grumbling voice and he sighs tiredly, shaking his head. He’s about to make his way to the kitchen when he hears his doorbell and his eyes unconsciously flash to the door. A small, white CD envelope slipped through the place his mail was supposed to get in through and Zayn furrows his brows in sweet confusion. “That’s it, they found me.” He whispers to no one, to himself maybe, and his voice cracks by then end, one of his hands rubbing his eyes in an attempt of keeping himself from crying before scratching his nape and walking to the door.

He gets the CD envelope and stares at it blankly. Then, he flips it, checking the other side. There he finds a few lines written in a nice handwriting, and he’s pretty sure that he knows who it belongs to.

It’d be really fucking good if he remembered it, though.

_a mix to wash your sadness away_  
 _and luckily you'll_  
 _smile once again..._  
 _for me_  
 _01\. yellow - coldplay_  
 _02\. as long as you love me - carly rose sonenclair (cover)_  
 _03\. hey jude - the beatles_  
 _04\. wouldn’t it be nice – the beach boys_  
 _05\. waiting for my sun to shine - the maine_  
 _06\. no worries - mcfly (acoustic)_  
 _07\. today - the smashing pumpkins_  
 _08\. chasing cars - ed sheeran (cover)_  
 _09\. fix you - coldplay_  
 _10\. the climb – miley cyrus_  
 _11\. good to you – marianas trench feat Jessica lee_  
 _12\. I'll be ok - mcfly_  
 _13\. broken - seether  
_ _14\. songbird - naya rivera (cover)_

Initially, Zayn thinks this is a joke – a sick, stupid joke in which the CD actually has hate messages to him and it’ll only make him cry even more than he has already. But then he takes the CD out of the envelope and goes upstairs to his room to grab his laptop – his hunger quickly forgotten and replaced by his curiosity and anxiety to know what the hell was in the CD.

He almost jumps on the bed and gets the laptop from his bedside table, opening it and turning it on. He’s almost jumping on the bed, and soon he’s playing the CD and he leans backwards a bit, laying on his back and resting his head on the pillow. He could feel his muscles relaxing, and it all felt too familiar, almost as if the past week didn’t happen.  
‘But it did’, he thinks as bites on his lower lip, determined to enjoy this playlist. He closes his eyes and stops thinking.

X

He hears it again and again and keeps it on repeat for the whole day. He’s starting to feel like himself again, and he even goes out to grab some Starbucks (after he puts the songs in his iPod, of course) to assure people that he’s really alive and well – at least he thinks so.

All the while he thinks and rethinks, tries and tries and tries again – trying to think of who would do that for him. Course, he had his band mates and his family and friends but not many people knew he had a thing for playlists.

The answer comes from the thirteenth time he listens to the playlist, and he notices that there’s one more song besides the listed fourteen ones – the song is in there twice! The only reason he finds out who had done that for him was that song in particular; he doesn’t know anyone else that loves that song as much as he does.  
For the first time in three days, he grabs his phone and checks his missing calls. Mum, mum, Louis, Liam, Liam, Liam, mum, Safaa, Safaa, Waliyha, Doniya, mum, Niall, Niall, Louis, Harry, Harry, Harry...

He taps his phone on the spot where Harry’s name is written and puts his phone close to his ear, waiting for Curly to answer. He does, and it doesn’t take long. “Holy fuck, Zayn! Are you okay? Are you alive? Wait, did you die and turned into a ghost and now you’re coming back to haunt me for something I did?” Harry’s exasperation is obvious and Zayn can practically see Harry running his hands over and over again through his curls, white teeth nervously biting onto his swollen, puffy lips, and it makes him genuinely smile.

“I’m okay, I’m alive and I most certainly am not a ghost, thank you.” He lets out a small laugh when he hears Harry’s relieved sigh through the phone. “Now, drop it off, Harry. I know you were the one who made the playlist for me.” Zayn wants to convince himself, really, cause though he’s pretty sure it was Harry, he wants to believe Harry put “As Long As You Love Me” and other songs to him on the playlist.

‘Maybe he feels the same way’, he thinks with a teeny tiny bit of hope boiling inside him.

“Uh, what?”

“You know, the playlist to make me happy. Come on, who would put Wouldn’t It Be Nice twice in it?” Zayn says, now being the one to bite his lip nervously. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Z – but you seem really happy with the playlist, it makes me wish I was the one to make it.” And Zayn gives up, because he knows – everyone knows – that Harry can’t lie for shit and he sounds so convincing. Zayn holds back a deep sigh and closes his eyes for a few seconds to regain his focus.

“Oh, okay. Um, thanks for calling anyway. Tell the others I’m fine, yeah?” Zayn says slowly, lost in a sea of thoughts. “Will do, Zaynie. See you soon, ‘kay?” Harry says and Zayn breathes out a small “Yeah, ‘kay. Bye, Haz” before hanging up.

Zayn throws himself on his – too huge, too big, too empty- bed and sighs. Who was he kidding? Of course Harry wouldn’t be the one with the playlist; he has his own problems to deal with now: the rumors, his fake womanizer fame, fake relationships as well. It’s not like Harry would feel the same way Zayn felt about him anyway.

Little did Zayn know, that if you listen closely in Harry Styles’ –too huge, too big, too empty, too silent- house, you can hear how his heart was beating fast, his breathing had fastened, and he was practically bouncing on his feet. Baby Z, so gullible, so naïve. Maybe someday Harry will find the courage to tell him that he loves him.


End file.
